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It was the one fucking thing getting Ed through the day.
He’d already been kicking himself for letting Izzy talk him into signing Blackbeard’s Tattoos up for this artist’s conference, anyway. There was a reason he’d stopped doing them - he hated the long, slogging days, the boredom, and the endless condescending questions about how he made it so far with his particular background (never knew if they were talking about the Jewish thing, the Māori thing, the gay thing, or the trans thing). He’d been a celebrity tattoo artist for years, and he was fucking bored, and the last thing he needed was to waste his time with this -
But Izzy said it was only right that he go, and Izzy refused to let him hear the end of it.
So they went.
The worst part, since Izzy had already booked the conference tickets (with the company money, before Ed had even approved it, of course), and he’d only booked two, and Ed had been trying to tell him no for fucking months - they were sold out of panelist and exhibition tickets by the time he agreed. So Ed couldn’t even invite Fang and Ivan along. Nope. Just him and Izzy, all day long.
He’d had a brief moment of optimism when they ran into the exhibition for Rackham’s Tattoos, but then he’d remembered why he’d been kinda glad when Jack had decided to quit at Blackbeard’s. Ed had mellowed out with age; Jack had not, and his loud excitability had been fun when they were in their twenties. Now, with Ed already having had a shitty day to cap off a shitty few years, Jack was…a lot.
He’d let Jack pressure him into taking a few shots, despite his better judgment, and he had a pounding headache before eight in the morning.
The single silver lining?
There was an ice cream shop right next door to the conference hall. A cute little mom-and-pop type shop, with big colorful posters on the windows advertising their fun seasonal flavors.
There was no way he’d let Izzy talk him out of it. It was right next door. He’d just get through this fucking day, and then he’d get his ice cream.
So Ed put up with it.
He let Izzy’s griping go in one ear and out the other - why did Izzy care so much about coming to these things if he refused to go alone and also insisted on criticizing every single artist there non-stop? He laughed along with Jack without really registering what he said. He gave a billion fucking interviews about the latest celebrities and rich clients he’d done boring, bland tattoos for. He was bored out of his fucking skull.
He had a moment of respite when he ran into an old mentor, Jackie, and she invited him to co-run one of her panels on a style they were both experts in, but that was the one tolerable hour of his entire day.
Izzy talked him into eating at one of the seafood pop-up shops for lunch, even though they could look at the menu and see they hardly had anything other than shellfish, which Ed couldn’t eat because he kept Kosher. Izzy dug his fucking heels in when Ed suggested literally any other one - they both liked seafood, but Ed just couldn't eat at that particular one, and he just refused to compromise. Then he pitched a fucking fit when Ed said he’d go somewhere else, because apparently they needed to discuss their strategy for the afternoon. Ed didn’t see what there really was to discuss, but he sighed and just went along with it. That was easier, even if it meant that he was getting through the day on only an iced coffee and a tiny bag of potato chips.
Ed told Jack he was thinking about retiring. Jack laughed and thumped him on the back.
Yeah, Ed thought. A joke. One big fuckin’ joke.
He made it through the day, somehow, getting by on visions of ice-cream sundaes and cones filled with double scoops. By the end of the day, Ed was willing to do anything it took to get to that ice cream shop, so he point-blank refused when Izzy insisted they stay even longer to network.
Jack actually came in handy there - that man would never turn down ice cream - and Ed couldn’t even care that Izzy insisted coming along anyway. Didn’t even matter. Izzy could be miserable all he wanted. Wouldn’t stop Ed from enjoying the ice cream that he’d fucking earned.
Ed took a deep breath in as they walked into the ice cream shop, closing his eyes to really savor the smell of sugar and waffle cones. For just a bit, he could have one nice little break.
The shop was small and clean and cute. The worker behind the counter told them cheerfully that they could ask for samples of any flavor they wanted, and Ed was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he looked through the display cases of ice cream flavors.
There was only one other patron in the shop, a guy who was surveying the nut and tree nut flavors with a look of intense concentration. Ed couldn’t help but pause to look at him, feeling his cheeks get a bit warm. He was cute, about Ed’s age, with lovely blond hair and a wonderfully soft-looking lavender-colored suit and -
Jack nudged his elbow, guffawing, and Ed looked away, his cheeks burning.
He tried to focus on the flavors, ignoring Jack cheerfully making fun of Izzy for walking in and immediately ordering a single scoop of pistachio without even looking to see what other flavors they had.
Hm. He liked cherry jubilee…key lime pie sounded fun…couldn’t go wrong with double-fudge cheesecake…
Holy shit, they had pumpkin spice.
It might’ve been a bit basic, but Ed absolutely adored pumpkin spice everything, and he knew he had his choice right there.
He was happy to feel the first real smile he’d felt in fucking weeks as he looked up at the menu board to survey his options. Two scoops of pumpkin spice, he decided, and the themed cups they offered were probably for kids, but who cares? He’d get his in a shark-themed cup, because that was cool as hell, and it came with a little shark-shaped cookie. It even said on the board that he could get extra sprinkles for no extra charge if he bought two scoops!
He felt lighter than he had in a long time as he waved the worker down for his order. “Yeah, I’m thinking I’ll have two scoops of the pumpkin spice, please, in the shark cup, and as many of the rainbow sprinkles as you’re allowed to put on there.”
The worker wasn’t even able to grab the ice cream scoop before Jack started laughing.
“That’s not what he wants,” he said loudly, roughly pushing Ed in the arm.
“Uh, yeah,” Ed started.
“No,” Jack laughed harder. “Come on, bro, what kind of man would actually order that? Like a little teen girl. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever - people are gonna think you’re a girl -”
Ed’s face burned. He ducked his head.
“Don’t be a fucking idiot,” Izzy snapped, and Ed couldn’t even laugh about how he’d gotten pistachio ice cream all in his mustache. “He was never going to actually order that. Stop wasting time, Edward, make your actual order.”
“Maybe he wanted his sissy order,” Jack laughed, and Izzy started telling at him to take this seriously, and -
Ed just ducked his head to hide the sheen of tears in his eyes. He’d wanted one thing. He’d wanted one fucking nice thing, and he couldn’t even have it.
The worker was looking at him questioningly. Ed at least owed it to them to get Jack and Izzy out of their shop before they caused a scene.
“Uh, yeah,” he said quietly. “Scoop of chocolate in a cup, please.”
“Plain cup?” They confirmed. “Do you want any sprinkles?”
“Plain cup,” Ed sighed. “No sprinkles.”
Ed didn’t even feel up to taking a bite as he waited for Jack to place his order and for Izzy to decide if he wanted another scoop of pistachio before they left. He didn’t say shit when Jack, the fucking hypocrite, ordered a scoop of pumpkin spice himself and immediately started going to town on that thing. Jack had always been like that. It was girly when Ed did it, and he’d just claim he was being ironic if Ed tried to call him out on it.
Ed was moping towards the door when he heard the man he’d noticed before start to place his own order.
“A double scoop of the pumpkin spice, if you don’t mind,” he said, “and I’ll have that in a shark cup, please, with extra rainbow sprinkles.”
Ed turned, frowning, and the guy in the lavender suit grinned at him and gave him a wink.
“Hey,” Ed said to Jack and Izzy when they caught up with him, “I think they gave me the wrong change.”
“Oh, fuck this,” Izzy started, predictably. “Incompetent -”
“You guys go on,” Ed interrupted. “I’ll catch up.”
He thanked every power that existed that Jack went, and he started talking to Izzy about the networking event the exhibition was having tomorrow, and that was Izzy’s kryptonite, so he didn’t even fight Ed on it.
Ed waited by the door, trying to figure out if this was some kind of trick or -
“Hey!” The guy who’d copied Ed’s order did a cute little jog to catch up to him at the door. “I’m sorry if this is overstepping, I know we don’t know each other or anything, but…I wanted you to have a chance to get the order you wanted.”
Ed immediately felt a bit choked up, and he tried to hide it by ducking his head.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I can pay you back?”
“No need,” the guy said, his grin growing. “Swap?”
“Sure,” Ed said, handing over his cup of plain chocolate and getting a perfect cup full of pumpkin spice and rainbow sprinkles. Their fingers brushed as they swapped, and Ed felt a tingle all the way up to his shoulder. “I’m Ed.”
“Stede.”
“I don’t know how to thank you -”
“We could sit, maybe?” Stede inclined his chin towards the outdoor tables before his smile faltered. “Or - or not, I don’t know you, that might’ve been far too forward, you don't know if I'm, like, a creep or something -”
“I’d love to sit,” Ed assured him, a bit surprised by how much he really, really did.
“I always come here after work,” Stede told him cheerfully as they found a table. “It’s a lucky thing, actually - I almost always just get chocolate.”
“Meant to be,” Ed said, before his brain could catch up with him.
“Meant to be,” Stede echoed, with a thoughtful smile.
Ed was thinking a spring wedding.
“Hey, uh…” Ed carefully broke the shark cookie that came with his order in half, laying one half on Stede’s napkin. “Thank you, really, thank you, but…can I ask why you did that? For me?”
“You looked really sad,” Stede shrugged, humming appreciatively as he ate a scoop of his ice cream. Ed watched his throat bob, torn between gratitude and horniness. There was only so much he could take when a guy was this kind and this attractive. “And I hated the way they talked to you.”
Ed shrugged one shoulder. That was just Jack and Iz.
“Seriously,” Stede went on. “I mean, that was just…gross.”
“It was gross, wasn’t it?” Ed frowned as it hit him, and he considered his next bite of ice cream. “They know I’m a man. It’s not my fault they’re insecure in their own masculinity. I can order what I want.”
“Exactly!” Stede nodded primly. “Honestly, Ed, why do you even hang out with these guys?”
Ed opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Huh.
The honest answer was that keeping people like Izzy and Jack in his life was predictable. He knew exactly what he was getting. He knew they’d treat him like shit, and he knew not to expect any better, but…
“Hey, question,” Ed said, tapping his ankle against Stede’s under the table. “Can you tell me if something’s a little fucked up?”
Stede licked a big bite of ice cream off his spoon. “Sure.”
“Earlier,” Ed said, a bit hesitant, still, “Izzy - he was the one with the pistachio mustache - he threw a massive fucking fit about picking where we ate lunch, even though I keep Kosher and I couldn’t eat at the place he wanted.”
“Very fucked up,” Stede said, a deeply cute frown line popping up between his eyebrows. “Very, very fucked up.”
“Huh,” Ed said, trying to distract himself with such a massive bite he got brain freeze.
Conversation veered lighter, after that. Stede told Ed he was allowed to ignore the texts Izzy sent asking where he was - he didn’t want Izzy to know, it wasn’t important that Izzy knew, and Izzy shouldn’t feel entitled to know where he was when it wasn't relevant to his job. Stede worked at the natural history museum downtown that Ed had used to love to visit before he got too busy, and he promised to hook him up with a behind-the-scenes tour. It turned out that Stede had always wanted to get a tattoo, and Ed agreed to work him into his schedule, even though he was sure it would just be a typical first-timer tattoo -
“On my ring finger, here,” Stede said, holding his hand across the table. “I’d like a lighthouse.”
Cool backstory, to that one, too, it turned out. It would be a detailed, fiddly job, the kind Ed loved, and Stede wanted it to remember how he’d come out as gay and left a loveless marriage.
“Love it, love that,” Ed said. “But maybe not on your ring finger. Fingers fucking hurt, so it’s probably not the best first tattoo for you. Besides, don’t want it to be obscured by any jewelry. Later.”
He’d winked, and he’d loved Stede’s blush.
Lavender and white, maybe, for their wedding colors.
Stede decided he’d actually love his lighthouse as a wrist tattoo, and Ed agreed that would be an easier first tattoo for him. He would’ve offered to do it for him then and there, but it had been a hell of a rough day, and he didn’t want to fuck it up, so he had Stede agree to meet him at his shop first thing in the morning.
He was a bit surprised when they realized the street was dark. They’d stayed there talking until the shop closed, and they hadn’t even noticed.
Ed should…
“Listen, Stede -”
“Ed, I was -”
They both laughed, their sentences fizzling out.
“I was kind of wondering,” Ed said, deciding to be brave for the first time in a long time, “if maybe I could get your number? So I could text you about the tattoo care, and stuff, maybe?”
Stede relaxed in his seat, Ed’s sudden nerves seeming to put him at ease. “Yes,” he said. “Of course you - yes.”
Ed put his number in Stede’s phone, smiling to himself.
“For the record,” Stede told him, his smile bringing out an absolutely adorable dimple, “I was going to ask for your number, too. Except I was going to ask you -”
“Yes,” Ed breathed.
“You don’t even know what I was about to say,” Stede laughed.
“You were about to ask me on a date!”
“Yeah,” Stede said. “Yeah, I was.”
Stede hugged him before they parted that night, and Ed had been surprised when he found he didn’t want to let go. It must have been a full five minutes, just standing there on a dark street corner, Stede rocking him gently in his arms.
“For the record, Ed,” Stede told him softly, still hugging him tight, “you’re allowed to set boundaries. When things happen like - like what happened earlier. You’re allowed to tell people they’re not treating you well.”
Bit funny, how Ed had needed permission for that.
When he got home, he texted Stede a photo of himself in his PJs, an old Jackie’z Tattoo crop-top and sweatpants slung low on his hips, and he’d laughed when that got him a row of 🔥🔥🔥 emojis. The picture Stede sent back in retaliation - shirtless in his bathroom mirror, showing off miles of golden chest hair and broad shoulders and extremely grabbable tits - was just unfair.
As he’d settled into bed, he’d smiled automatically at the ding of his text notifications, thinking it was Stede again, but he felt a sinking feeling in his gut when he saw it was a new text from Izzy.
Izzy: be at conference hall tomorrow @ 5 am
Ed took a deep breath.
Ed: no
Izzy: what?
Ed: I said no. I've told you over and over again I didn’t want to go to the conference. I had a miserable time today and I'm not going back tomorrow. you can invite Fang or Ivan tomorrow, I don’t mind what you do
Izzy: it has to be you
Ed: why?
Ed: they’re both long-time artists, they’ve both got names for themselves. they're more than qualified to represent the company
Izzy: you’re being very immature
Ed rolled his eyes.
Ed: you know what was immature? when you told me where to eat and what I could order.
Izzy: this is fucking ridiculous
Ed: if you can’t be professional with me, we’re going to have to reconsider your employment
He had to put his phone down. His hands were shaking.
Izzy didn’t text back, which was fine, because Ed hadn’t really expected he would. Probably he’d hear no end of it tomorrow…
You know what? That was fine. If Izzy tried to be a dick to him tomorrow, then Ed was allowed to tell him to knock it off.
He took a screenshot of the conversation and sent it to Stede.
Stede: wow!!! 😲👏🏻
Stede: Ed, that was so brave of you! 😊😁 You’re so right, he isn’t entitled to treat you like that when you’re his boss and you’re expecting professional conduct.
Stede: I’m so proud of you 🥰🤗
Ed rolled over onto his tummy, kicking his feet behind him and burying his delighted shout into his pillow.
Ed: thanks mate 😎
Ed: by the way, after your tattoo tomorrow…
Stede: I’d love to get lunch with you Ed!! 😋
Ed: great. It’s a date! 👍🏽
Stede: it’s a date 💛💛
Was Ed reading too much into those hearts...?
Ed: 💜💜
Ed held his phone to his chest as he drifted off, sleeping coming easy for the first time in a long time, and he dreamed about double scoops of ice cream with rainbow sprinkles and blond boys with cute dimples.